


Lost & Found

by yuma (yuma_writes)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Brothers, Childhood Memories, Gen, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5671033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuma_writes/pseuds/yuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many ways one could be lost...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost & Found

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an old prompt from the Thegameison Challenger community on LiveJournal, Nov 2011. The prompt for this was "lost & found".

In the end, Mycroft discovered Sherlock glowering at the sausage vendor near Nelson’s Column. He stood over Sherlock, waiting, but wasn't acknowledged.

"We've been looking for you," Mycroft chided him in lieu of greeting. Sherlock ignored him, narrowed eyes fixed on something past Mycroft. "Mummy is very upset."

Sherlock said nothing. Mycroft huffed under his breath.

Somewhere, a car horn blared.

The boy flinched.

_Ah._

"That lady," Sherlock murmured, "hates her husband."

Mycroft checked to his left. A woman walking a step behind her companion wore a blank face but her hands were fisted tightly in front of her. He nodded.

"And that man..." Sherlock gestured with his head, but never took his eyes off the rounded toes of his shoes, "he wants to talk to the girl selling flowers."

A flick over his shoulder; Mycroft concurred. He looked at Sherlock looking at his shoes.

"What else did you see?" he murmured, his voice softer now, encouraging.

Sherlock told Mycroft about the waiter stealing others' tips, the elderly man who hit his wife with his cane, the cab that had struck a dog but sped away, the woman nicking money from her work's coffers. All while still staring at his shoes.

Mycroft waited, his hands clasped behind him. 

Sherlock's voice trailed off and Mycroft knew the child has reached the end of his list.

"We were to have tea." Sherlock finally glanced up, his dark head turning left and right. "But not here." 

"No, not here," Mycroft said calmly as he extended a hand. Sherlock merely blinked at it. His eyes slid away.

"Tea," Sherlock bit out, "With Aunt Jones. Her scarf, she—"

"We're having tea with Aunt Jones," Mycroft interrupted.

"But her scarf—"

"Is hideous and smells like licorice." Mycroft kept his hand out.

Sherlock screwed up his pale face and looked away.

"You don't see her." Sherlock scrubbed a finger under his nose. 

But Mycroft does; knows of her affair with her assistant because she thinks her husband is cheating on her but unlike Sherlock, Mycroft has learned it was better to ignore what should be ignored.

"No one ever sees anything." Sherlock glanced up at the crowds milling about. He made a face and looked down at his shoes again. 

Mycroft's arm tired but he kept it out. "They see but they don't observe."

"They're stupid." Sherlock blinked furiously at the ground. "Why can't anyone else see all this?"

Mycroft stepped in closer until Sherlock was forced to see his shoes as well.

"Mummy will be worried."

Sherlock squinted at Mycroft’s hand. "Mummy told us no sweets before tea," he said dully before averting his gaze around Mycroft to the family walking past with a trolley. Sherlock snapped his focus to another direction then another. "That man has just..."

Distant laughter. Sherlock twitched. His young face crumpled, smoothed then crumpled again. 

Mycroft place a hand atop Sherlock's head and guided it to rest against his hip.

"Stop," Mycroft ordered firmly. He received a muffled snort in reply. Ignoring it, Mycroft continued, "What do you see now?"

"Your stupid trousers." Sherlock squirmed but Mycroft's hand held him in place. "Let go."

_Never._ Eventually, Mycroft dropped his hand. He permitted himself a smile when Sherlock remained tucked against him. Mycroft stood there, the warmth of Sherlock's exhales against his hip, shallow and rapid at first, gradually steadying.

After another moment, Sherlock straightened. Moments after that, Mummy called out from across the Square. They exchanged a wince.

"We looked all over for you!" Mummy scolded as she ran her hands over Sherlock's face and thin shoulders. "You had us worried sick. Where had you gone?"

"Nowhere," Mycroft interjected. He gave Sherlock a none too gentle push until Sherlock stumbled towards Mummy. "He was right here."

"Mycroft, don't tease your brother so."

"Of course, Mummy," Mycroft replied dutifully even as Sherlock glared up at him.

Mummy sighed because it was her automatic response to Mycroft's passive evasion. "Come along. Aunt Jones is waiting." She strode off toward the restaurant, ignoring Sherlock's wordless grumble.

Mycroft followed. He shortened his stride, however, ever mindful of the quiet shadow behind, stepping on his all the way to the tea shop.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback are like cookies. I _like_ cookies. LOL.
> 
> I was perfectly content to post it and forget about it. But dear Penfold convinced me to post this de-anon and well...(shrugs helplessly), you all suffer the consequences, dear readers...


End file.
